Into the Night Page 9

  Salvation Survivalists.

  Walking God’s path of readiness.

  All of it was based on lies.

  “Do you know if he’s here?”

  Cece pushed aside the troubling thoughts and studied the SUV parked to one side of the building. The emergency exit was on that side. Her father had always parked there, choosing to enter by the side door rather than the front. But when it was time for his followers to arrive, he would be found standing on that stoop, front and center, with the double doors open wide.

  Cece’s stomach cramped. How she had hated the man. No matter that he was her biological father, he had been a devil.

  She shook her head. “That SUV is parked where my father always parked so I’m assuming that’s Marcus.” She reached for the door handle. “I’ll know soon enough.”

  Deacon put his hand on her arm, waylaying her. “I can go in with you.”

  She shook her head. “He won’t say what’s really on his mind in front of anyone but me. A good liar never reveals his true self in front of anyone he can’t discredit or control.”

  At least that’s the way it had been when they were kids. She stared at the building that should be the setting of a horror flick. They weren’t kids anymore. She had not laid eyes on Marcus or Sierra since the day she was pronounced guilty, more than eight years ago. To some degree she could almost understand what made Marcus do the things he did—he wanted to be like their father. He wanted all that their father had built. Sierra was a different story. When they were little, he’d treated Sierra no differently than he had Cece. By the time she was a teenager, she could do no wrong. He’d treated her like a little princess.

  “I’ll be standing outside the truck. Scream if you need me.”

  She shook her head, could not stop the smile. “Will do.”

  The gravel crunched under her sandaled feet as she slid out of the truck and closed the door. She was truly grateful her grandmother had kept all her stuff. She hadn’t had much but she was thankful for it now.

  She stared at the closed double doors a moment, perspiration beading under her arms and on her palms. She had forgotten how hot even the mornings in August were. Spending most of her time in one of the few Tennessee prisons with air-conditioning, she had forgotten a lot about being outside. Like how the air smelled when it wasn’t surrounded by a towering fence. How different the sky appeared when you viewed it from between trees instead of from behind the bars of a tiny window.

  As she had known it would be, the double-doored entry to the church was unlocked. She opened one side and walked in. The air was cooler. Apparently air-conditioning had been added since her last visit.

  But the smell had not changed.

  Old, dank. Her father had bought the pews from a salvage place. The seller claimed they came from a two-hundred-year-old church in northern Tennessee.

  Marcus was doing the same thing she had watched her father do a thousand times, ensuring the hymnals and Bibles were tucked into the racks on the backs of the pews. No one who needed one or both should be without. Not that her father had ever preached straight from the Bible. Instead, he had twisted the words to suit his own purposes. Funny how no one ever seemed to notice.

  Or maybe they were simply afraid to mention it.

  She had mentioned it plenty of times. Likely another of the reasons her father had hated her so.

  The floor creaked with her first step inside as if the building itself was offended by her presence.

  Marcus looked up. The pleasant expression he had been wearing vanished.

  “Blasphemy,” he bellowed.

  She kept walking toward him. “Probably.” She glanced up. “I expect the roof to fall in any second.”

  “Leave this church!” He pointed to the door. “I will not have the likes of you desecrating this house of God.”

  Cece laughed, could not help herself. “God has never been any part of this, Marcus.”

  He began to move toward her then. Cece stilled. Let him come. She refused to be afraid.

  “You murdered our father.” His tone simmered with hatred and disgust.

  “You know I did not. You lied and so did Sierra. The only thing I want to know is why? Both of you hated him as much as I did. If you say you didn’t, you’re lying.”

  Fury twisted his lips. “You are the liar. Father knew what you were when he cast you out.”

  This man was her brother. How could he look at her with such sheer hatred and not the slightest flicker of basic human compassion?

  “What’ve you done to Levi?”

  “Levi has finally come to God.” Marcus was close enough that he towered over her and had to glower down at her to look her in the eye. “I will not allow you to alter his course. Go back to the devil where you belong.”

  Cece peered up at him. “You know what I think? I think you killed our father. Look at all you had to gain. His church, his house. You came out with everything, Marcus. I wonder why the police didn’t consider that.”

  “Foul bitch,” he snarled. “You know Sierra and I had confirmed alibis.”

  “You two fooled everyone back then—except me. I’m going to set the record straight, Marcus. I will find the truth. This time you and Sierra won’t be able to stop me.”

  “What is she doing here?”

  Cece’s gaze flew to the woman walking down that long center aisle. Sierra. Cece tried her best not to show how seeing her sister sucker-punched her, but she wasn’t entirely successful. Some betrayals couldn’t be so easily forgotten.

  “Sierra.” Cece drew in a big breath and steadied herself. “I was just telling Marcus how I’m looking for the truth. Why don’t you help me find it?”

  Sierra glared at their older brother. “What is she talking about, Marcus?”

  Inside, where no one could see, Cece smiled.

  “Get out,” Marcus roared. “I won’t have you here when the followers start to arrive.”

  “You shouldn’t have come back, Cece,” Sierra warned. “No one wants you here.”

  “When I find what I’m looking for,” Cece said, “I’ll be out of here so fast your head will spin. But I’m not going anywhere until then.”

  “Watch yourself, sister,” Marcus mused with fire in his eyes. “There are many who wish you ill. I work diligently to keep my followers on the right track but I can’t be expected to keep them all on the proper path.”

  “I’m aware,” Cece assured him. “But your followers aren’t going to stop me.”

  “God will take care of you, Cece,” Sierra warned. “If I were you, I would be very afraid.”

  “Funny,” Cece tossed back. “I’m not afraid at all.”

  She turned her back on the two and started toward the door.

  Let them stew on that for a while.

  Her brother started to pray. Sierra did the same.

  Cece rolled her eyes.

  * * *

  DEACON PACED BACK AND FORTH, his gaze hardly leaving the entrance of the so-called church. He should never have allowed her to go in there alone. But she was right, her brother was far more likely to talk to her without an outsider around.

  How had he stumbled so badly so far? He had been trained never to allow a civilian to walk into danger. Keeping her safe should have been a priority above all else—including solving the case. But it wasn’t because he wanted the truth no matter the cost to her or anyone else.

  She’d been found guilty of killing her own father. A woman like that wouldn’t think twice about killing Deacon’s partner.

  Except now he wasn’t so sure she had killed anyone.

  He had waited a long time for this opportunity, had put his career and life on hold. Now he was riddled with second thoughts and uncertainty.

  A car pulled into the lot, then another. He scanned the faces, shot another look at the
door. What the hell was she doing in there? If the place filled with the older brother’s followers anything could happen.

  Before the thought fully formed in his brain Deacon had started for the entrance.

  He was about to take the two steps up to the stoop when the door flew open and she stormed out.

  “I’m done here,” she said to him.

  He nodded. “Okay.”

  They walked back to his truck amid curious stares from the ones who did not recognize Cece and hate-filled glares from those who did. He opened her door and waited for her to settle in the seat before he went around to the other side and climbed in behind the wheel.

  “You recognize any of these people?”

  “Some of them,” she said as he backed away from the growing cluster of vehicles.

  “Did you see Levi?”

  “No. I think they’ve got him hidden away somewhere. Probably at the house.”

  “Do you mean against his will?”

  She waited until he had pulled out onto the road and turned back to her before she nodded. “I believe so. I know Levi. He wouldn’t become one of them. Not for any reason. He might pretend if he had to, but he would never do it for real.”

  “You think we should talk to Sheriff Tanner?” He asked this knowing full well she would say no. Like him, her plans didn’t include playing by the rules. Involving the authorities required playing by the rules.

  “Tanner can’t help with Marcus.” She stared out the window at the passing landscape. “Marcus and his followers consider themselves above the law. They answer only to God and to their interpretation of his word. Besides, they’re too careful to make a mistake in front of anyone like the sheriff.”

  He braked for the stop sign at an intersection. “Like I told you before, I’m ready to help. What would you like to do next?”

  She stared at him for a long moment. Guilt assaulted him again at the idea of how young she looked...how innocent. But she wasn’t innocent. Was she? He had totally lost his perspective during the past forty or so hours. He wasn’t sure how to get it back.

  “I want to go to the house.”

  “Heading there now.” He flipped on the left turn signal and checked for oncoming traffic.

  “No. I mean the house where I grew up.”

  He pushed the turn signal back to the neutral position. “To go onto your brother’s property would be trespassing.”

  She shook her head. “It’ll be breaking and entering because I’m going inside the house.”

  Deacon opted not to try and talk her out of the decision.

  But one thing was certain—if she was going in, so was he.

  Chapter Eight

  The house where Cece grew up was a large two-story farm-style home set back in the woods on a forty-acre piece of property her father had inherited from his father. About five acres around the house were cleared for the yard and a massive garden. Their family had never raised their own livestock. Fresh milk, eggs and meat had been purchased from local farmers or provided by followers. Her father had lived by the philosophy that a man should focus on what he was good at and leave the rest to someone else.

  Mason Winters had never been good at anything but conning people into believing the garbage he doled out as gospel. In Cece’s opinion, it was a miracle no one had killed him long before she was supposed to have done the deed.

  Right around this bend in the mile-long drive would be the house. If they drove any closer, anyone at the house would see them. To the right, just through those woods, was the church. It seemed farther when driving from the house to the church or vice versa, but through the woods it wasn’t far at all.

  She turned to the man behind the wheel, who so far had gone along with her scheme without balking. “You should probably stay in the truck. Me deciding to break the law is one thing, but I can’t expect you to do the same.”

  Deacon stared at her as if she had lost her mind. Quite possibly she had. This was a risk. If Marcus caught her here, he would have her stoned or tortured in some other heinous manner rather than call the police. He would swear she had done something terrible and that he was only defending himself. She would either be dead or back in prison.

  Which meant she could not get caught.

  “Listen to me.”

  Deacon’s words pulled her attention from those troubling thoughts to the man who’d spoken. This was the moment when he would tell her that if she went any further he was out. Completely understandable. He wasn’t an outlaw or ex-con and she was. Her reputation was already a disaster. She had little to lose.

  “The house,” he went on, “belongs to Marcus now, right?”

  She nodded. “He inherited it, yes. The house and the church. The one contingency is that he must always take care of his siblings—as long as they stay in the church. Levi and I were out of luck. Not that I wanted any of it. If I had inherited the place, I would have burned it down.”

  Before this was over, she might anyway.

  “Did your father have guards when he was alive? Anyone who watched after the house when he was away?”

  “Not as far as I know.”

  “All right.” He looked around. “I’m going to back into that narrow side road over there. I can park out of sight from the house or anyone who turns onto the driveway.”

  The side road he meant wasn’t really a road. It was just a track that had formed over the years from the people who turned around in that spot when they realized they had taken the wrong road or changed their mind about visiting Reverend Winters. Cece had used that spot a few times herself. Usually when she needed to sneak back into the house for something she had left behind.

  Once Deacon had backed into the clearing, he said, “I’ll follow you as you approach the house, but I’ll stay in the woods out of sight.”

  Considering all that Marcus had said to her in the church it was probably a good idea. He hated her. Sierra did, as well. It made Cece furious that she felt sad at the idea. She shouldn’t care and somehow she still did. Wouldn’t it be nice to cut them out of her heart entirely?

  “Okay, if you think that’s the best way.”

  “I do. What’re you looking for, besides Levi?”

  “I’m not sure. Maybe nothing beyond Levi. It’s not like I think they’ll have evidence of my innocence lying around. Or evidence of their own guilt, for that matter. I just need to look.”

  Her instincts wouldn’t let go of the idea that there was something she needed to see.

  She reached for the door handle.

  “Remember, if you run into trouble—”

  “I know,” she said as she opened the door. “Scream.”

  “You got it.”

  Cece reached down deep for her courage, stepped out of the woods and started toward the house. As she rounded that curve and the house came into view, she immediately spotted two men. Both wore jeans and Salvation Survivalists tees. She didn’t recognize either one. Well, well, her brother had decided guards were necessary.

  The only reason to hire guards was if there was something worth guarding.

  Had Marcus found out Levi visited her and decided to imprison him?

  Deacon was trailing her. She felt confident he had spotted the guards, as well.

  Standing on the porch, the two watched as she approached. They were armed. Rifles hung from straps draped over their shoulders. Thankfully, the rifles stayed on their shoulders as she approached. She had no desire to get herself shot.

  When she was ten or so yards from the porch, she waved. “Hey. Is Levi home?”

  The two men stared at her as if they weren’t sure they should acknowledge her existence, much less speak to her.

  “Marcus said he had stayed home sick today. I thought I’d check on him.”

  The taller of the two looked at his watch. His instinct, she suspe
cted, was to call Marcus. But he couldn’t. The church service was already underway.

  “I’ll ask him,” the other guy said. “See if he’s feeling up to company.”

  Anticipation seared through her veins. She was going in. At least, as long as Levi was there, and the man had basically said he was. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

  The one who had checked his watch stayed on the porch and watched her while the other one went inside. She reminded herself to breathe but her lungs wouldn’t cooperate. The service lasted a couple of hours, considering confessions and healings and all that other nonsense, so she had some time.

  All she needed was inside.

  Maybe she would have a chance to talk some sense into Levi.

  As if the thought had summoned him, he appeared at the door, the guard behind him. He stared at her for a moment before he moved. Then he stormed across the porch and down the steps. He did not stop until he was standing toe to toe with her.

  “What’re you doing here?” he demanded.

  She flinched. His voice was hard and unforgiving.

  “I came to see you.”

  He stuck his face in hers and whispered fiercely. “Meet me at the shack in twenty minutes.” Louder, he added, “You cannot be here! You are not one of us anymore.” He backed up a step. “Leave and never come back.”

  Cece hesitated, her brain reluctant to absorb what was happening.

  “I said get out of here!” he shouted.

  She fell back a step.

  Levi turned back to the house. To the guards he said, “If she ever tries to come back here again, escort her to the road.”

  Cece could not bring herself to turn around until Levi disappeared into the house once more. Then she turned and ran. No matter that he had told her to meet him at the shack, the rest of his words shook her to the core.

  He was the one person in her family she had always been able to count on. Was it possible he really was one of them now?